Synchronized Chaos December 2023: The Unfurling Canvas of Time

We continue to express sorrow over what’s happening in so many different parts of the world and encourage our readers to support people and the planet.

Woman staring straight ahead with a large butterfly on top of her head with open wings.

Also, we are hosting our Metamorphosis gathering again! This is a chance for people to share music, art, and writing and to dialogue across different generations (hence the name, the concept of ideas morphing and changing over the years). So far photographer Rebecca Kelly and English/Spanish bilingual poet Bridgett Rex are part of the lineup and more are welcome! This event is also a benefit for the grassroots Afghan women-led group RAWA, which is currently supporting educational and income generation and literacy projects in Afghanistan as well as assisting earthquake survivors. (We don’t charge or process the cash, you are free to donate online on your own and then attend!)

This will be Sunday, December 31st, 2-4 pm in the fellowship hall of Davis Lutheran Church at 317 East 8th Street in Davis, California. It’s a nonreligious event open to all, the church has graciously allowed us to use the meeting room.

You may sign up here for event reminders. RSVP appreciated but not required.

This month, as we prepare to exit 2023 and enter a fresh new year, we contemplate the unfurling canvas of time.

Windup pocket watch landing on a wood grain table and disintegrating, starting in the lower left corner.
Photo c/o Mohamed Mahmoud Hassan

Misha Beggs renders the passage of time into pieces that tenderly trace the soft wooden shape of a guitar and the lines on human faces.

Grzegorz Wroblewski’s mixed media pieces situate their creator in time, reflecting how we are simultaneously physical and spiritual/emotional beings.

John Mellender relates narrative poems of history and humor and survival while Stephen Jarrell Williams finds moments of hope and comfort in a collapsing world.

Bill Tope’s work reflects the effects of institutional dehumanization and slow long-term trauma on a person. John Edward Culp illustrates the renewal we can find in nature and through the intentional movement of our bodies.

Ayganim Beknazarova celebrates the promise of the spring Uzbek New Year celebration and Sayani Mukherjee proffers up a rich, lush take on an edible hibiscus.

Abstract image of rock or paint in red and blue-silvery green colors melting into each other.
Image c/o Circe Denyer

Brian Barbeito contributes a poetic take on birds during autumn’s transformation into winter while Aklima Ankhi envisions herself migrating along with sea creatures as she traverses a beach. Alan Catlin evokes environmental change and ruin through his burned-out and storm-ridden landscapes.

Doug Hawley’s humorous tale of Hell freezing over draws on today’s environmental and political headlines.

Duane Vorhees explores sensuality and life’s mysteries through a series of off-kilter poems, and Patrick Sweeney captures people and places within short phrases. John Tustin plays with childhood memories, attraction, and the allure of nature in his collection.

Odina Abdumuminova‘s piece concerns an artist who draws a beautiful clock and yet fails to capture the passage of time. Chukwuemeka Victoria Chiamaka urges us to make the most of our time, as life’s flickering roses will fade away.

In this spirit, Isabel Gomes de Diego’s photography approaches everyday scenes as if they were museum exhibits and Daniel De Culla showcases the chubby Buddha figurines so common in restaurants, highlighting joy and mindfulness in the everyday that will allow us to experience and transcend the mundane.

Shells of sea creatures or mollusks preserved in light brown stone.
Image c/o Petr Kratochvil

J.D. Nelson’s work presents uneasy but oddly familiar juxtapositions, as if he’s scanning a room. Mark Young intersperses pop singers and avant-garde artists into his abstract work.

Christopher Bernard presents a gentle, abundant Christmas shopping scene where people have the luxury of only small problems.

Perhaps in a celebratory mood gone awry, Patricia Doyne laments the struggle of opening boxed wine. Tom P. finds moments of ceremony within his personal memories, as well as humor and memorable characters.

Human knowledge and history represents and comprises its own historical timescales.

Irene Koronas takes us on an odyssey of verbiage and color theory while Daniel Y. Harris crafts a mashup of hacker technology aesthetics and Whitman humanist poetry.

Mickey Corrigan explores the life of writer Patricia Highsmith through poetry. Don McLellan relates the perennial writers’ struggle of finding a publisher and an audience for their work. Jerry Langdon laments in a poem reminiscent of a horror fantasy how his poetic words can never match or illustrate the frustrated sentiments of his mind.

Z.I. Mahmud probes class, money, and satisfaction in Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, the power of romance as resistance to an untenable social order in William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, and self-development in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.

Woman of undetermined age and skin tone kneeling and looking to the ground under spotlights of green, red, and blue. Everywhere else is pitch black.
Image c/o Kai Stachowiak

Elan Barnehama’s piece is an excerpt from his upcoming novel Escape Route, concerning the son of a Holocaust survivor who hopes to avoid the anti-Semitic persecution he fears will come to the United States.

Norman J. Olson traces his journey through Riverside and Rome and his experience of much smaller catastrophes, such as illness and security hangups.

Other contributors speak to personal growth and moving through stages of life.

Alison Gadsby’s piece aims to convey the feelings of new motherhood, of being dislocated and judged. Qiyomiddinova Zilola offers another take on the fear and grief of losing children, the inevitable nervousness of parenthood.

Anila Bukhari gives us hopeful and humane pieces about young girls rising above their circumstances. Graciela Noemi Villaverde reflects the permanence of her ingrained pre-verbal happy childhood memories.

Replete with joy among falling leaves and still water, Mahbub Alam’s poetic speakers revel in a simple moment of connection outdoors in Bangladesh.

Karmelina Angelica Kelenc’s love poem is steeped in Croatian patriotism while Borna Kekic connects the joy and freedom of birds in flight on a sunny day after a rainstorm to the pride he takes in Zagreb, his native city. Xayrullo Xalikov offers poetic flowery praise to her Uzbek homeland and Iroda Abdullayeva’s pieces revel in the natural and human beauty of her rural Uzbek heritage.

Leafy green trees, shrubs and grasses and moss on the ground near a small pond.
Uzbek Tashkent Botanical Garden

Kristy Raines celebrates aspects of love: care for the natural world and compassion for the struggling around the globe. Anindya Pal remembers a warm afternoon redolent with the aroma of nature and dreams of love. Annie Johnson’s emotions soften with the arrival of twilight as she speculates on the future of her love amidst the twinkling stars, while Maja Milojkovic finds love and self-realization while immersing herself fully within a river.

Peter Cherches‘ story probes the connection between name and self-image and reflects on how we can change through the years.

J.J. Campbell finds moments of peace, or at least acceptance, in a litany of loneliness and longing. Taylor Dibbert speaks to self-reclamation after a breakup, while Zahro Shamsiyya evokes the questioning and bargaining stage of grieving after lost love.

Suyarova Mahliyo Muradxon’s piece reminds us that dramatic situations have backstories, relationships can be more troubled than they seem.

Jaylan Salah reviews Sierra Urich’s film Joonam, the story of different generations of Iranian-American immigrant women.

Soft styled vintage painting of women in long dresses at the water's edge on the beach. Most dresses are white or cream but one woman is in pink. They carry parasols and leave footprints in the soft sand.
Image c/o Karen Arnold

Eva Petropoulou Lianou celebrates female strength and urges women to support each other, and reflects on her creative inspiration. Wayne Russell renders the precarity and beauty of the creative process.

Mesfakus Salahin memorializes a soldier who gave his life for national Bangladeshi independence, dying for his country’s birth.

Mykyta Ryzhykh speaks to the smaller and larger deaths and dislocations we experience, personally and globally.

Daniel De Culla mourns the absurdity of harming civilians and children in war while Faleeha Hassan comments that armed conflict can reduce all civilians to children searching in vain for comfort from their parents. Chimezie Ihekuna reflects on the economic promise of Nigeria and the instability that challenges foreign investors. Lilian Dipasupil Kunimasa addresses society’s combined exploitation of women, workers, and nature while Manzar Alam pleads with the world to put an end to war.

Finally, Elmaya Jabbarova urges all of us not to give up on the world, even if it seems about to die around us. We can start to repair where we are, with what we have.

Poetry from Wayne Russell

Lady Ice 


Keeping me in the dark, emotions
fail, a terminus point reached, and
subcontinent trivial murmur.

The poet glides as stealth, through
the catacombs, subterranean by
no fault; relic dawn and fading haze.

Mysterious union, mirrored souls,
dancing upon the lake of a forbidden
realm.

The flame will sway in her eyes, steal
away the frozen soul; lady ice living on
in a photo, the frame is shattered,

the heart forgets to hold down the beat.

Indecisive

The ravage of synthesis,

bone pearl night, glazed

bronze stars, phosphorus

and low mass, end of a

life cycle.

A symphony of love,

unleashed into the

wilderness, graveyard

in ruins, a druid palace

in mock prayer.

Wounded heart river,

hyperactive racoons,

conductor of their own

oblivious domain, a fox

crosses their way, the

world at large, completes

its slide; into madness.


The creative writings of Wayne Russell have been widely published over the years, The Cannon’s Mouth, Screech Owl, The Monterey Poetry Review, and Poets’ Espresso Review, are some of the magazines in which he has been published. Waynes first collection of poetry, Where Angels Fear, was published by Guarilia Genius Press in 2020; it can be purchased via Amazon.

Poetry from Jerry Langdon

Light skinned man with dark short hair and a white collared shirt seated at an angle.
Jerry Langdon
Curse

Dark thoughts tickle
Within my brains
And my words trickle
From my veins
Until only emptiness remains.
Runes building poetry
Under pooled ink.
Words become a mystery
On sanity's brink;
I could cross if I dare blink.
My pen leaving craters;
Page upon page.
My words are traitors
To my rage.
These lines build my cage.
My nightmare breathes
With every verse
While my heart wreaths
Under my own curse
And the pain is growing worse.



Far Off Doors

Failure is the only thing I've succeeded.
I'm good at getting lost on the way.
Not seeing that you were all I needed,
While nothing could get me to stay.
Still nothing could fill the void left behind.
The emptiness is a painful longing.
Hiraeth in my heart; tormenting my mind.
Wanton of a paradise without belonging.
My soul haunts those forgotten halls
While my body walks along other shores.
My taunted heart screaming silent calls
That wish to knock on those far off doors.

From South-Western Michigan, Jerry Langdon lives in Germany since the early 90's. He is an Artist and Poet. His works bathe in a darker side of emotion and fantasy. He has released five books of Poetry titled "Temperate Darkness an Behind the Twilight Veil", “Death and other cold things” “Rollercoaster Heart” and “Frosted Dreams” Jerry is also the editor and publisher of the literary magazine Raven Cage Zine poetry and prose. His poetic inspirations are derived from poets such as Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Frost and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. As well as from various Rock Bands. His apparently twisted mind, twists and intertwines fantasy with reality.




Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Middle aged white man with a beard standing in a bedroom with posters on the walls
J.J. Campbell

over half your life

looking out the window

thinking of all the women

you have let down or never

had the chance to let down

loneliness is realizing you

have lived over half your

life and can’t remember

the last time you kissed

a woman and it meant

something

even worse, you can’t

imagine that changing

anytime soon

———————————————————————

look around

if you take a moment

and look around and

realize you’re in the

middle of a bob ross

painting

life isn’t that fucking

bad after all

———————————————————————

like a pair of comfortable shoes

she never tells you she loves you

takes it for granted like a pair of

comfortable shoes

eventually, you will grow apart

find your comfort in the arms

of an easy woman on the east

side of town

all in the hopes that someone

will get jealous and realize

her error

years later now, and she never

has

never even wished you the

best of luck

tells you to lay in the bed

you made

no time for the argument

she thanks you for letting

her go when she needed

you the most

two souls that don’t know

how to communicate will

always come to the same

solution

learn and let the new love

reap the benefits

no use being bitter for

the rest of time

———————————————–

hungry for love

an old soul

that the world

has left behind

hungry for love

but the long line

hasn’t moved

in years

at this rate

it is becoming

more and more

clear dying alone

is the most likely

conclusion coming

of course, the

lottery could pay

for a companion

though luck doesn’t

often work that way

————————————————-

squeeze a few poems out

we’re back to the old routine

of a medical facility waiting

room a few times each week

now

gives me a chance to squeeze

a few poems out

maybe do a little people

watching

hell, maybe even dust off

the imagination and take

it back out for a spin

the world continues to spin

off the axis

yet all the people i know

keep chugging along

of course, it ain’t exactly

living

but only the rich can do

that anymore these days

Poetry from Mesfakus Salahin

I am alive


Please don’t say me dead
I am still alive after death
I am living in the pages of history
In the laughter of a child’s mystery
I have conquered death of time
Now everything is mine
Look my face in the Flag
Everyday I rise with the rising sun
Every night I gossip with the stars
I fly  in the belief of patriots
And the hope of new generation
Every moment l listen your heartbeat
I hear what your tongue utter
I am not worried about my life
That I gave in the Liberation War
See, me, I am always with your prayer.
I am always with the feeling of crore
Death has nothing to do
I am over death
I’m still alive
And I will be alive generation after generation.

Poetry from Annie Johnson

Light skinned woman with curly white hair and a floral top.
Annie Johnson
Midnight Soul and Hay Meadow Heart 

Night comes creeping softly 
Like a ghost descending the stairs 
Dragging reluctant shadows behind it 
With a dark beauty that mystifies reality; 
Flooding my being with midnight skies 
And lining the walls of my soul 
With planets, suns, orbiting moons, swirling 
Nebulas and covering the Sistine ceiling of my soul 
With the layers of a million Milky Ways. 
My super-conscious is a blackness 
Lighted by a billion twinkling stars. 
There is just room enough left in my psyche 
To fill each crevice with the scent of new mown hay 
And the site of the burgeoning meadows of home 
Over-flowing the memory banks of my heart. 


When Tomorrow Has Flown
 
When tomorrow has flown 
Into future memories 
Where will love be then; 
Still strong between us? 
Will your mind burn 
With indelible images of me 
Swirling just below instant recall? 
Will your heart still ache 
From the memory of my touch? 
Will my undying words of love 
Still echo in your chambered soul 
When tomorrow has flown? 
Love does not seek assurances; 
It lives or dies within a dream. 
Within the soul of yesterday 
Love comes naked and barefooted; 
A deep passionate flame 
Burning in the wonder-filled darkness 
Where twin souls are melded by time. 
We are alive on sacred promises 
And the murmuring madness 
That comes whispering through time 
To bind us soul in soul, as one. 

Annie Johnson is 84 years old. She is Shawnee Native American. She has published two, six hundred-page novels and six books of poetry. Annie has won several poetry awards from world poetry organizations including; World Union of Poets; she is a member of World Nations Writers Union; has received the World Institute for Peace award; the World Laureate of Literature from World Nations Writers Union and The William Shakespeare Poetry Award. She received a Certificate and Medal in recognition of the highest literature from International Literary Union for the year 2020, from Ayad Al Baldawi, President of the International Literary Union. She has three children, two grandchildren, and two sons-in-law. Annie played a flute in the Butler University Symphony. She still plays her flute.